Casey O’Neill is a farmer and owner of Happy Day Farms in Laytonville, Calif. The opinions expressed in this column do not necessarily reflect the views of The Mendocino Voice. If you’d like to write your own column for The Mendocino Voice, send your idea to info@mendovoice.com.
I was born and raised on this land, and even when I lived elsewhere I still thought of it as home. This is the only place I ever wanted to be, and I’ve poured my lifeforce energy into building a farm that can sustain us and provide food for our community. Lately I’ve known folks who have moved to other, greener places with less threat of fire, and that has made me think deeply about the place that is my home.
Summer has become synonymous with smoke and heat, with the fear of fire and sadness for those who are directly affected by the blazes. Our hearts go out to the people, animals, landscapes that are burned or displaced by evacuation. In the back of my mind is the knowledge that it’s not if, but when.
We had a small lightning strike fire pop up last weekend, but good response from our local volunteers had it under control in the morning with a second mop-up in the evening after the fire jumped the containment lines. It takes a community working together to be prepared, and I’m grateful for the vigilance and leadership of our fire chief and the firefighters who show up when the call goes out.
I missed the first call early last Sunday morning, but a strong showing kept the fire to approximately a hundred feet square. In the evening around 8:30 I was at Brother Lito’s, and we were deploying insect netting to protect the cannabis crop from a grasshopper plague we’re dealing with when the call went out that the fire had jumped the lines.
We headed back up to his house and while Lito grabbed his gear, I drove to the fire department and started the big engine to warm it up. This time of year I keep my gear in my truck, so I put on my Vibram sole boots, yellow jacket, helmet with goggles and web gear pack with fire shelter. Lito arrived and jumped in the driver’s seat of the engine, and we headed for the fire.
When we arrived at the scene there was already one Bell Springs quick attack engine, several volunteers, and a Cal Fire engine and crew. The fire spread had been stopped and contained. After being quickly released, we headed home, feeling glad that we weren’t going to spend the evening fighting a fire in heavy brush.
As fire has become more of an ever-present summer reality, we spend more time thinking about it and preparing for the worst. We train as a community to know what to do when the time comes, how to lay hose, cut fire lines, protect structures, and to be safe in the process. On the farm we’ve been working on deploying fire sprinklers around homes and installing dedicated fire tanks and pumps. There is always more to be done, but we chip away at it each year, and the effort helps to contain the fear and frustration.
No matter what we do, though, the smoke will roll in at some point and we’ll close the windows and try to keep from breathing it in. I’ve taken to wearing a mask when I’m outside working in the smoke, although we’re blessed that most afternoons the prevailing westerly breezes push it back enough that we can open the house back up and cool things down.
It’s when the wind doesn’t shift, or dies completely that things get bad. Our house heats up so much during the hot summer days that it’s unbearable in the evening if we can’t open the windows to draw in cool air. Those still, smoky nights are some of the most difficult times in my life, exhausted, struggling to sleep in the heat, reflecting on the new normal of smoky skies and difficult breathing.
The smoke takes it out of me, so I end up tired and irritable, my footsteps slowed and my brain fogged. It makes the summer workload heavier, turning joy to drudgery and requiring dogged determination just to get through it. When it lifts, the reprieve of cleaner air is a gift. We rush to open the house and draw in cool air, leaving the windows open until the winds shift in the night and the smoke blows back in. When we wake to the taste in our mouths in the middle of the night, we close the windows and run a box fan with a 20-inch square filter on the back that helps to scrub some of the smoke out of the air.
This week has been one of deep reflection about the changing nature of summer, the realities of fast-moving fires and the uncertainty of a future of climate change. I’ve had to look deep within myself, to question my commitment to this land, this life. I’m realizing how much work it takes to maintain what we have in the face of change, and I’m struggling to find the courage to do so. Yet the strength is there, and I awake renewed and refreshed after a cooler night that dropped the temperature inside the house to comfortable levels. Summer is hard, but life is good. As always, much love and great success to you on your journey!
Casey O’Neill owns and runs HappyDay Farms, a small vegetable and cannabis farm north of Laytonville. He is a long time cannabis policy advocate, and was born and raised in the Bell Springs area. The preceding has been an editorial column. The Mendocino Voice has not necessarily fact-checked or copyedited this work, and it should be interpreted as the words of the author, not necessarily reflecting the opinions of The Mendocino Voice.